Tales from the Trails Post #5 During this trip, particularly when driving alone in the sag wagon, I've had time for contemplation, and invariably think about my family, meaning my wife and our two kids, and also my parents and siblings. Both of my parents have died within the last few years, and while I miss their physical presence, I feel them with me in the van. I promise this post is about our bike trip, but bear with me during the dad forward parts. As I recall, my father, a fairly serious man, said three funny things to me during his long and happy life. I'm sure there were more, but three have stuck with me. One of the three was uttered as he and I sat on the back deck of the early nineteenth century Colonial he'd moved the family into after we headed east from Michigan to Connecticut, when I was twelve. I was in my mid-twenties at the time of the quip. The moon was high in the sky, lighting all of his three acres. I could make out the large pine at the property lin...
